


Some Nights

by bidness



Series: The Devil From Edom [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat Fluff, Cats Are Demon Spawn But We Love Them Anyways, Devil Magnus Bane, Flirting, Human Alec Lightwood, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Meeting in a Dark Alley, POV Alec Lightwood, Pining, Sexual Tension, Use of Allure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness
Summary: “I’m here to collect,” is the ominous reply, and Alec feels the sweat that begins to tingle on his palms against the leather of the crop.“M-My... Soul?”“While that is a tempting offer...” Magnus begins, stepping closer with those soundless movements, “No, my dear. I’m here for my cat.”Alec's surprised when he bonds quickly with a cat that sneaks into his apartment one day, that he's affectionately named Meow. But when it runs away and Alec's search for him leads to the devil in an alley claiming it's his cat Chairman, he's lost on what to do and why he's suddenly enamored with the mesmerizing devil from Edom.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: The Devil From Edom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739053
Comments: 27
Kudos: 299





	Some Nights

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: If you are against questionable consent in regards to kissing, PLEASE DO NOT READ.**
> 
> I feel like the warning might not be necessary, but better to be safe! There is a sort of allure that is used, so if that's not your thing feel free to back away!
> 
> This came from a prompt: The protagonist lives a normal life until they adopt a cat, unaware that it ran away from its previous owner – the devil.

_“I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real.”_

* * *

Alec Lightwood, by his own accounts, has never considered himself a lonely man. 

How can you be lonely when you’ve got two siblings, overbearing parents, and a crazy best friend? He’s got a full house, full heart, and an equally full work and school schedule that keep him too occupied to feel much of anything other than the accompanying stress. But sometimes... 

Sometimes, when the moon is high in the sky and he feels the twinkles of the stars like an ache in his heart, he knows something’s missing, he just can’t quite place it. Some nights, Alec takes in the empty space of his bed with longing eyes and an extended arm that sweeps the sheets in search of something that isn’t there. 

Most nights, however, he falls asleep to the soft silence of his empty home surrounded by thrice read books and unfilled assignments. Alec tries writing letters, tries to express his loneliness in the only way he can – through words on paper. It helps, at first, a little. But then a little soon turns into not enough and he’s back where he started: alone. 

Extra-curriculars are an option he’s long given up, because at the end of the day he’s _“too dark and brooding”_ for most of the clubs he’s interested in, and the only place that doesn’t shut him out is the archery club, where they stand in companionable silence and congratulate each other on the whizzing of the arrows that always hit the target. It was enough, he thought. Enough for then, but then isn’t now, and now Alec can’t ignore the tug in his stomach when he opens his door to absolutely nobody. 

But one day he doesn’t. 

One night, after a long shift at the bookstore, he turns the knob of his door in practiced repetition and swings it open to the chaos of his living room where his books and papers have been haphazardly strewn about. 

_A burglar_ , is his first thought, and with precise, careful steps he pads into the living room that’s still shrouded in darkness. There’s a noise – _a crunching?_ It’s off in the corner of his kitchen, even darker in the black stillness. 

He could run, could call the cops and have them come out to investigate it. That would be the safe, logical thing to do. What if some crazy hobo broke in and is eating a dead body in his kitchen or something? 

_No_ , it’s probably nothing. 

Slowly, with determined but cautious steps, Alec makes his way towards the sound, his hand lifting hesitantly to the light switch, and he pauses – _waits_ – before flipping it on. 

The kitchen is less of a disaster than his living room, but there’s still broken dishes on the floor, drawers open, and cabinets ajar. 

But perhaps the most startling thing happens to be the crunching sound that emanates from the wriggling butt and swatting tail poking out of one of Alec’s half-eaten bags of chips, from a _cat_. Thank god he didn’t call the cops. 

Before he knows it, he’s sneaking – he's not sure why, since it’s just a small animal – over to the bag, balancing himself precariously between shards of broken glass on the floor. It only takes a few seconds of shifting eyes around the bag, floor, _tail_ , before he realizes he’s honestly not sure how to go about getting the cat out of the bag. 

There’s a pun to be had, he has nobody to tell it to, but he smiles to himself anyways. 

He doesn’t have time to gloat about his humor, or lack thereof, because by the time he’s close enough to reach the cat, it shimmies its way out of the bag and peers up at him with wide eyes that make his hand reflexively reach for his chest. It’s... _adorable._

It meows, high and drawn out, before it pitter-patters over to Alec and brushes against his legs. 

The realization of fear hits him suddenly, because Alec has never had a pet. He doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of anything other than himself or his siblings, but he supposes they aren’t far-off concepts. Squatting, he reaches down to gently pick it up, letting it shuffle in his hands as it settles into a more comfortable position while his mind races through all the possible scenarios that could come out of this. He could keep it, or give it away. He could put up signs around the neighborhood in case someone’s missing it. There’s a lot of things he _could_ do, but he chooses not to make a decision just yet. 

His fingers are smoothing lines against its coat, short-haired and soft, taking in the patterned gray and white of the fur. The cat responds with a purr, nudges its head against Alec’s fingers, and blinks up at him slowly. 

“Do you belong to somebody?” Alec questions, though he knows the cat won’t be able to answer him. 

It meows in response, he’s sure it’s just the fact that he’s made a noise and not because it can understand him, but he smiles and steps out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, the only place in his small apartment that doesn’t seem to be a casualty in the cat’s crusade for food. He sets it – _him_ – down on the bed, spends a few moments stroking the softness of his fur again, before quickly hopping back into the kitchen to snatch two bowls and some leftover chicken from his fridge, mindful of the shards he’ll have to clean up later. 

Quickly, he fills one bowl with water on his way back to his room, sets them both on the bed, and proceeds to shred the chicken into pieces with his fingers. He’s not sure why, doesn’t really take the time to think about what compels him to do it, but he begins to talk to the cat, let’s himself pour out all the trivial thoughts in his head the come forward. 

“You know, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in weeks,” he begins, his cheeks sprinkled with a bit of color because he feels a little silly talking to an animal. 

But it stares up at him, perched fastidiously in front of the bowls between them. It gives a low _mrrow_ _,_ seemingly urging him, so he continues. 

“I’m not sure if cats ever get this feeling – probably not, actually. I just feel like sometimes I’m missing out on life. Like there’s something I’m doing wrong, or in some way I’m blind to what I _should_ be doing. Does that make sense?” 

There’s only a meow in response, and Alec groans and shakes his head, tearing particularly roughly into the chicken in his hand. “I don’t know why I'm even talking to you. You have no clue what I’m saying.” 

He doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, picks at the chicken until there’s not much left to fiddle with before he washes up for bed and sets the bowls on the floor. His routine is simple: face wash, toothpaste, read, then sleep. It remains the same, the only change tonight is the cat that settles in the empty space of the bed beside him, satisfied with a belly full of chicken and a sleepy yawn. 

Alec does his best to focus on the words of his page – 

_“It is like a gentle kitten is licking the inside of my heart.”_

But with a sigh that expresses more than he’s willing to put into words, he closes the book and sets it on his nightstand, turning out the light with a swift motion and allows the sleep to pull him down. 

* * *

They settle into a routine, because Alec loves routines and it’s the basis by which he lives his life. He’s not opposed to branching out occasionally, but for the most part he knows what he likes and he sticks to it. The cat doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, he’s actually acclimated to Alec’s life very quickly. 

Alec had spent the next morning researching the best cat food brands, scouring dozens of google searches until he felt qualified enough to properly take care of another living creature, one who couldn’t tell him if he was doing the wrong things. His family knows he's found a cat, and Izzy spends a good several hours on her first visit to meet it sprawled on his bed with it, _cat napping._

“What’s his name?” She asks through a yawn when she finally stirs. 

Alec shrugs. “He doesn’t have one.” 

Izzy watches him through a squint, rolls her eyes and snuggles deeper into his sheets with the cat. “You have to give him a name. He’s yours now.” 

There are names in his head, pet names he’s heard before or seen online, but as he sifts through them mentally, none of them seem to fit. Slowly, hesitantly because he knows it sounds stupid, he answers her. “Meow?” 

“Meow,” she repeats, then once more with finality. “Meow. Alec, it’s perfect!” 

Something in his chest surges. Pride? He’s not sure, can’t really put a name on it but he watches them affectionately, slumps down onto the bed and laughs with his sister as they pet at Meow lazily between conversation. 

* * *

Posters have been put up, signs that have Meow’s face and the words “Found Cat” on them that look more like propaganda signs than missing cat posters. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to put up signs. It’s been two weeks and he’s gotten used to the constant company when he comes home from work or classes, actually enjoys coming home to a bit of a mess because Meow is still learning his apartment. A big part of him hopes that nobody claims him, and he feels immediately guilty for it. 

But then Meow hops onto his lap in the morning when he’s sipping his coffee and scribbling some last-minute notes on his assignment and the guilt washes away with those large round eyes, because he seems happy. He’s cared for, loved, and safe. Isn’t that what matters? 

* * *

On nights when Alec has nightmares, Meow is there to comfort him. Soft licks and nuzzles against his face bring him to consciousness and anchor him back into reality, stifle the buzzing of anxious nerves that flit across his skin. A reality where he’s not as lonely as he was a month ago, where Meow is there to keep his lap warm while he reads before bed and comfort him as he drifts off. 

The cat doesn’t expect Alec to keep up conversation, doesn’t expect to be constantly entertained in ways that other people expect that Alec just can’t offer. They’re perfect companions. Which is what makes it harder when Meow runs away. 

* * *

There’s the rustling of a bush, a grunt, and a defeated sigh. 

“Are you sure he’s not just hiding in your apartment?” Izzy’s watching him with a frown, balanced around the shrubbery outside Alec’s apartment building. Meow has been missing the past two days, and Alec wouldn’t have minded had it been any other cat, but this one is different. Lazy days and tired nights have been spent the past few months with Meow curled up at his side, purring heartening mewls when he’d feel the need to vent or talk about a particularly interesting book passage. 

Meow is more than just a cat at this point. 

“I’m positive, his food is completely untouched,” he responds, shoving aside a large trash can just in case. 

They’re in an alley across the street when Alec feels a gentle hand against his elbow. Izzy’s at his side, watching him with mixed emotions but he can’t turn to face her, he doesn’t have the capacity for anything other than worry for his cat’s safety. He knows what she’s going to say, he knows she wants to stop looking because it’s _just a cat_ , and cats run away sometimes. 

He doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to accept that Meow is gone, because his apartment has started to feel less like a place for him to hold his belongings and more like a home. The responsibility of parenting an animal finally gives him a reason to come back every night, something other than the simple fact that he _needs_ to sleep in a bed if he hopes to be productive the next day. 

“Please, Iz,” he says, softer than he knows she’s heard from him in a while. She’s conflicted, he can tell, but she just nods acceptance and rubs at his arm. 

“I’ll check the next alley. But it’s already dark, Alec.” 

“I know,” he nods. “Ten more minutes.” 

The clack of her heels fades as she turns the corner, and Alec resumes his search, bending down to peek into all the crevices that could possibly hide a small feline. It’s when he’s reaching to move a flipped box that he hears it, the familiar lilt of his cat. 

With a hurried swoosh, he’s turned to face it, focusing on the sight of Meow trotting to him without a care in the world, like he hasn’t just uprooted Alec’s life by running off. 

“Meow,” he breathes, and he can feel the grin cracking his lips as he rushes towards him. 

“Meow,” repeats a voice, smooth and light against the dark of the shadows. “That’s cute.” 

Alec pauses, narrows his eyes in apprehension towards the vague area of the speaker before he can make out the figure. It’s a man, poised elegantly in a lean against the wall of the alley, inspecting his dark fingernails with cool indifference. 

There’s a moment where Alec thinks his heart stops, a moment when the man shifts his eyes up to meet his and he’s graced with the vision of swirling green and gold slits that resemble Meow’s. They’re practically glowing in the night, enchanting in the way they pierce through the shadows that surround him, and it’s all Alec can do not to step closer, not to fall forward into this stranger. 

“A-Ah... um... I, uh...” 

It’s not his proudest moment, and definitely not one he wants to remember in his budding English career. Words are his forte, usually, his constant in this empty existence that he calls his life. He can pick them out, rearrange them to fit his needs and express himself any way he wants. But suddenly they’ve eluded him, fluttered out of his head without notice... and he’s lost. 

Lost in the eyes of this stranger, in an alley across from his apartment with his sister not fifty feet away. 

And Meow, who wraps his tail around Alec’s calf and thumps his head lovingly into his shin. 

“I see you’re quite the chatterbox,” the voice laughs, a twinkling sound in his ears that reminds him of the sky at night, a voice that puts the beauty of the stars to shame. 

The sound of the city night floats around them, but all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears and the rapid thud of his pulse when the man steps out of the shadows and into the dim light of the alley. _He’s gorgeous_ , is Alec’s first thought, followed by: _Stranger danger_. 

There’s entirely too much saliva in his mouth all of the sudden, and he swallows it with a gulp, a movement in the dark that catches the attention of those shimmering eyes. 

The man – _stranger_ – looks the definition of sin, if Alec were to personify it. The way the long draping crimson shirt shifts with a gentle breeze that Alec can’t confirm or deny to be real, how it parts open to expose the smooth expanse of muscle beneath it, all add to Alec’s thoughts that he’s stuck in a dream. This can’t be real, those black pants that elongate and cling indecently to the parts of this stranger’s body that Alec doesn’t want to focus on don’t belong in this world. 

There’s another jingling that echoes in Alec’s head, and for a moment he’s not sure if he’s being laughed at again. But then he notices the silver chains of necklaces that are layered along the chest, twisting and clinking around long fingers that are decorated with yet more silver that should come off as gaudy if it were anyone else, but doesn’t. One finger in particular catches his attention, a finger so heavily covered in metal it’s spiked to the tip, sharp and dangerous, and Alec feels tempted to prick his finger on it. 

The blaring of a horn snaps him out of his daze, and he’s startled to realize he’s leaned so far forward he’s nearly toe-to-toe with the stranger. 

“You must be the Mundane who’s caught my precious Chairman’s attention,” the man purrs, electric as the sound runs through Alec’s body, more sensual than any cat he’s ever heard before. 

“Ch-Chairman?” Alec’s voice sounds strangled, drowning in the wetness of his mouth that just _won’t stop_. 

The man hums, the sole of his boot thumping so quietly against the gravel that Alec’s not sure if he’s actually even touching the ground as he steps around Alec. He can feel those eyes looking him up and down, studying his figure, meticulous in the way they’re perusing his outfit and the nervous twitch of his fingers that want desperately to reach out for _something_. Maybe he should have gone with the navy-blue button down today, he thinks with insecurity that claws up his spine, the one that fits him properly and brings out the blues in his eyes, better than the loose black sweater he’s got on now. 

Not that he intended to meet anyone worth the effort of looking nice, and he’s not sure why he even wants to look good for this _stranger..._

“My darling kitten,” the words come out across the back of his neck, send shivers that wrack his body and he screws his eyes shut to steady himself, tries not to take that answer as a term of endearment for himself, though he desperately wants to. 

Why is he reacting like this? Alec has been awed by plenty of gorgeous men before, but this one, something about him is twisting organs in his stomach, prancing off-beats along his heart and turning him into a complete wreck with just the melodic chant of his voice. 

Alec feels the breath against his ear before he hears it, feels the way it blows against his face warm and sensual and filling his nose with the most enticing scent he’s ever inhaled. His body seeks out more, _needs more—_

A meow – _Meow's meow_ – snaps Alec out of it, whatever _it_ is, and he scrambles away, almost stumbles onto the pavement in his inelegance to put some space between them. With wide eyes he searches the alley, looks for anything that can be used as a weapon because _what the fuck?_

The laugh is back, a quick chime that makes his head feel a snip of fuzziness that he has to force away with a vigorous shake. 

“Wh-what are you doing to me?” He snaps, whirling around with the first thing he could find— 

Alec glances to the item in his hand, the item he’s waving around between them that he’s plucked off of the ground, the crisscross on the black leather handle catching his eye as something he can use as a weapon. _Oh god._

He wants to groan, wants to duck his head in embarrassment as he follows the path of the item from handle to tip, sparing no more than the dawning realization that he’s just picked up a sex toy. The bright red and black leather heart at the end of the stick taunt him, but he remains firm in his stance of self-defense. He doesn’t understand what’s happening but surely anything he can use as a weapon will help him against whatever magic this guy is using on him. 

The man smirks, tilts his head forward in faux shyness that’s contrasted with the sultry stare he offers Alec, and he hates that it makes his knees buckle. 

“If you wanted to spank me, you simply had to ask. I’d have brought more toys.” 

Alec chokes on his spit, curses the fact that it feels like a pool in his mouth that won’t go away, but keeps his grip tight around the leather in his hand as he coughs to the side. The leather is cold against the uncomfortable heat that begins to spread along his face and neck, it helps keep his thoughts straight, gives him the courage to turn back around to face the stranger. 

“Stop playing games, I’m being serious!” He shouts, tries not to notice the waver in his voice. “Who are you?” 

The man sighs, drawn out and slumped shoulders at the absence of continuing playful banter, still looking more regal than Alec’s ever seen. “I’m the devil,” he says, finally. “Magnus.” 

Alec stares. 

Waits. 

Nothing but the silence between them comes next, followed by the faraway sounds of laughter and sirens and city life. It’s darker than before, the sky is already black with invisible stars in the fog of light that surrounds New York. 

“I said no games,” Alec glares. 

“Darling, if I was playing games I'd have gone with something far more interesting,” Magnus – _the devil_ – responds, inspecting the mechanism that surrounds his index finger with feigned interest, and Alec tries not to watch it glint in the light, tries not to let himself be drawn in again despite the way he hungers to feel its sharpness. 

“If you are the... _the d_ _evil,_ _”_ Alec stumbles over his words, “what do you want?” 

“I’m here to collect,” is the ominous reply, and Alec feels the sweat that begins to tingle on his palms against the leather of the crop. Has he died? All his life he’s done his best, tried his hardest to be as perfect as he can be... just to go to Hell? 

He can feel his resolve shaking, can feel the tremble in his hands as the fear starts to take him, chips at any remaining hope he has for his life. 

“M-My... Soul?” 

Magnus looks over at him, shocks Alec’s body with a jolt at the sight of those vivid golden eyes that strike him with a heat so strong he almost recoils. That grin is back, unable to look anything short of alluring, and Alec wishes he could look away but his body refuses to cooperate. 

“While that is a tempting offer...” he begins, stepping closer with those soundless movements, “No, my dear. I’m here for my cat.” 

Alec blinks, takes a few seconds to process what he’s saying before he glances down at the cat between his feet who flips over when he notices Alec’s attention, peering up at him with those huge, curious eyes in an adorable display. 

“Meow?” he questions, confused. 

“As creative as ‘Meow’ is,” Magnus drawls, “I prefer to call him Chairman. That is the name I gave him when he was created.” 

Magnus bends down, reaches his arm out to scratch at the fur under Meow’s chin. Alec tries to follow the motion of his hand, attempts to stay clear in his reminder that this guy could still be dangerous, but when Magnus’ shirt shifts up his back a little and Alec can see that tantalizing strip of skin uncovered in slow-motion, he can’t help but watch it. 

“I put up signs,” he offers sheepishly, wetting his lips and tearing his eyes up, away from Magnus’ body. 

“As helpful as that would have been to my search, I was only just able to locate him in this realm.” Magnus explains, lifting himself back up, though the words just spiral around in Alec’s brain because he has no fucking clue what tonight has turned into, if it’s even real at all. “Although, now that I’ve found him, he doesn’t seem to want to come home.” 

Magnus pouts, and the sight of it makes Alec want to whimper. 

He doesn’t, _thankfully_ , but just barely. 

“He’s been with me, the past months.” 

“I noticed,” Magnus tuts, observing the cat that’s purring on the ground, wrapped around Alec’s shoes. 

“When you say home...” Alec trails off, feeling foolish asking such an obvious question. 

“Edom,” Magnus answers quickly. “But you Mundanes call it Hell.” 

_Mundanes_ , Alec works the word around his mouth, taking from it the meaning. Magnus is watching him, head tilted to the side and arms crossed, not giving Alec much of an option to not appreciate the muscles of his arms through the thin fabric of the billowy shirt. There’s an awkward silence now, well, awkward for Alec, and he wants to say something but he’s at a loss, unable to do much of anything with the haze that starts to cloud his mind. 

_No, focus, Alec!_

“So you’re taking him?” Alec asks, voice small and shoulders hunching. He knows he should be happy that Meow has been reconnected with his owner, he knows he shouldn't feel the sadness that starts to bloom... 

But he does, and that makes him feel pathetic. 

Magnus watches him, takes a step closer so that there’s hardly distance between them, and Alec’s heart accelerates. He can smell him, intoxicating and otherworldly, spicy and fragrant encompassing the receptors in his brain that are telling him to _move back_. He wants to do something – anything – but all he can conjure from his body is the direction his eyes take as they trace along the sharp face before him, as they settle on those glowing gold eyes that drink him in. 

There’s a moment where he feels like he’s actually drowning, where his breathing refuses to cooperate with his lungs, and he parts his lips to gasp it out. Magnus is _so_ _close;_ his eyes are too wide and he’s too tempting and Alec has no idea why he can’t do anything. 

He’s lost again, and the weight of knowledge that this guy is the devil, that Meow is his cat and he’s going to be losing him, settles heavy in his chest and tries to push down the floaty feeling in his mind, but it’s no use. 

It’s no use because Magnus’ eyes are narrowed, the cat eyes in front of him are just slits that gaze down to Alec’s lips and back up, successfully capturing any chance of Alec coming back down from this high he’s been lifted into. 

_I don't want this_ , he thinks briefly, but then realizes it’s a lie because he wants this _too much_. The tingles are spreading along his body now, he’s not sure where they start but they end at every nerve, sparking life into parts of him that shouldn’t _feel_ anything. And just when it starts to feel too-much, there’s a pressure under his chin, warm fingers that sear his skin where they connect, pulling him closer and deeper into this suffocation. 

Part of him wants to run away, the rational part of his brain wants to go look for Izzy to pull himself out of this tangled mess, but he knows he’ll never do it. Everything about Magnus burns pleasantly, from the way his fingertips are grazing against the skin of his face, the burn in his chest that pulls him closer still, in a way that makes his heart long for something he’s never had. 

They’re about to kiss, Alec can feel the pant of a breath against his lips that are dry with want, can feel how hot the inches between them have grown. There’s a heat radiating off of Magnus, an uncontained fire that laps at his skin and threatens to slip into his mouth, to burn him from the inside out. And Alec would let it, would do it over and over again if he could just move closer and take the cha— 

“Alec! Any luck?” 

A whimper startles himself out of his trance, one that comes from within himself he realizes, and he turns to face the other side of the alley where his sister’s voice calls from. The tell-tale clicking of her heels on the pavement warn him she’s coming, but it’s at the back of his mind now because _Magnus_. 

When he whips his head back around, however, the alley is empty and quiet and the fog of his head becomes vibrantly clear, devoid of Magnus or Meow, as empty as his apartment. 

There’s a twinge in his chest, an ache in his heart because he’s suddenly so alone again, with no answers about what the _fuck_ just happened. Was it even real? Was Magnus a figment, _a ghost?_ Is Meow really gone? 

When Izzy finds him, he’s standing there with the prickle of tears in his eyes and his hand fisted tightly around the crop. She’s confused, worried for him in a way she can only express with her eyes when words don’t leave her mouth. When she urges him towards his apartment, he doesn’t protest, he allows himself to be tugged back into the solitude of his home that’s now sprinkled with memories of a companion he’ll never get back. 

He falls into bed uncomfortable and angry, filled with so much emotion that for once his books and papers can’t help him to express. Only the onslaught of tears leaves him, take with them all of the frustrations from the night, all of the misguided feelings and confusion that will never get an explanation. 

Izzy doesn’t stay the night, as much as she tries to. The bed is big enough to share, she says, but Alec won’t listen, won’t let himself be consoled tonight because none of his reactions are rational. 

So she tosses out the disgusting leather item from his hands, she piles up traces of Meow from his apartment and sets them in a box. And when she leaves it’s with a kiss to the back of his head and a gentle hug that do nothing to placate the tremulous feelings inside of him. 

* * *

The morning sun comes bright and harsh against Alec’s eyes, screwed shut in refusal to accept his rise into the day. Memories of the night fill him with a groan, and he shoves his face deep into his pillow, the humiliation shaming him to nobody but his conscience. 

When he feels the tickle against his arm, and the grainy texture of a tongue that swipes at his skin, he forces his eyes wide and is greeted with the sight of Meow, who seems nonplussed with his shock. 

Immediately, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it because what does he say? So instead of words, he uses a language he knows Meow will understand and scoops the small cat into his arms, nuzzling his nose against the soft fur and sighing deeply. Meow seems as amused as a cat could be, wiggling and squirming to get out of the embrace with a purr. When he settles him back on the bed, he notices the sun gleaming off of a small collar and pendant around his neck and he moves to inspect it hesitantly. 

It’s a solid black collar, snug against Meow’s neck that droops down into a silver skull pendant. When he flips it over, there’s an elegant inscribe that reads: _Chairman Meow._

His heart pounds, beats out a rhythm he’ll never replicate at the sight of the name and he feels the tears stinging his eyes again. Meow is back, _Chairman Meow_ , and he seems to have the blessing of the devil himself. 

There’s happiness, something almost tangible in the form of the cat curled up next to him blissful with pets from Alec’s fingers. It’s slow and gentle, but it’s incomplete. Something is _still missing_ , and he wants to cry out because he thinks he’s got his life figured out finally with his newfound friendship and loyalty of Chairman Meow. 

But he doesn’t. 

* * *

The nights pass slowly, and the days even slower. 

Alec’s mind feels muddled and groggy most days, every day since his encounter with Magnus, and he’s still uncertain in his belief that he was real, that he didn’t just create it all out of pure desperation in his search for Chairman Meow. 

_Chairman_. 

The name flows out of his mouth so often now, and his little buddy is even more eager to hear it, always quick in his response as if to confirm Alec’s suspicions that it really is his name. 

Alec still spends his days in the apartment surrounded by books and propping up the Chairman’s sleepy head on his arm while they drift in and out on lazy weekends. It’s almost perfect, back to how it used to be but Alec’s lying to himself in claiming he’s content. Because despite the calm he feels having the Chairman back, and having the rustle of a curious cat at all hours of the day fill the silence of his home, he can’t stop thinking about Magnus. 

In his dreams he lets him in, lets his mind take him to other worlds, other fantasies that always end with the two of them meeting again. And when they do it sets him alight, blazes so brightly under his skin all the things he wants, all his desires that didn’t exist until Magnus existed for him. 

He wants more, _needs Magnus_ , but he can’t have him. 

Because despite all of his hard work, all of the struggle that life has put him through, Magnus is not real. Magnus, the mesmerizing devil from Edom, can’t possibly exist anywhere but in his mind. 

Chairman Meow is a constant reminder, though. A reminder that on the nights when the loneliness seeps low in his heart and makes his pillow wet with tears, the familiar presence is there, comforting in ways Alec can’t vocalize. 

They lay there, Alec’s hand stretches out across the bed and clutches at the air until he feels it, until it grasps and curls around the ghost of a body – _Magnus._ Those nights the Chairman will quietly pad out of the room, sneaks off without a sound and those are the nights Alec looks forward to most, the nights where Magnus comes for him. 

He lets himself feel, lets himself get lost in the way Magnus watches him with his eyes swirling Alec into a reverie of pleasure. As resistant as he was at first, that night in the alley, Alec can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the need that ceases all rational thought in his brain because here with Magnus he can let go of the stresses of life, release every sinking concern or lonely ache he’s ever had into the misty air between them. 

When he wakes in the morning, sticky with sweat and exhaustion, he’s simultaneously more relaxed and tense than ever. 

Because he knows it’s not real. The empty space beside him on the bed is just as cold as it always is, and his heart is still soft with longing for something unattainable. 

When he gets out of the shower and has trouble carrying his unsteady legs to the bedroom, the Chairman mews at him, high and crooning, baring the skull beneath his chin. The skull and name that fill the holes in Alec’s heart with heat and make him want to believe. 

* * *

_“I have dreamed of you so much that surely there is no more time for me to wake up.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> The first and last quotes are from the poem "I Have Dreamed of You so Much" by Robert Desnos, and the middle quote is from "The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories" By Ken Liu.
> 
> You can follow my tumblr [here](https://bidnezz.tumblr.com/) and say hi if you want, or if you just want to see a gratuitous amount of Alec Lightwood gifs!
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought in the comments, or leave a kudos if you'd like!


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